


feel it in the morning

by cyclogenesis (addictedkitten)



Category: One Direction, Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedkitten/pseuds/cyclogenesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Nick have sex in a changing room during that shopping trip in Manchester. But, also feelings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	feel it in the morning

"What, did you think I just wanted you along for your keen fashion sense?" Harry asks, so quietly that Nick can barely hear him over the pounding of his heart, the pop music blaring over the shop speakers, and thank god too, because Harry's out of his mind, dragging Nick into the changing room like this and demanding a shag. 

"It is keen," Nick says, his voice cracking a bit when Harry undoes his belt, gets his button undone and zip down one-handed, and reaches right in for Nick's cock. "I thought the," time he and Harry got to chatting at the GQ Style Awards dinner thing and Harry flirted madly with him all night and they ended up drunkenly fucking in the limo they shared home before Harry gave him a kiss on the cheek and got out at his own building and said he hoped to see Nick around, "the thing, the last time, was just - a thing. A one time thing? Because we were pissed and - insane?" Nick tries. Words are hard when Harry's stroking his cock, is the issue, especially when Harry adds a little bit of that lip-biting action into it. He's staring down at Nick's cock intently enough that Nick wants to tap his chin and let him know that Nick's eyes are up here, thanks much, but then Harry licks his lips, so. 

"Yeah, no, we're going to fuck again," Harry says. "I brought lube and condoms," he adds, bringing them out of his pocket. "You ought to finger me, get me ready. I was sore afterward last time."

"Sorry," Nick says, already looking hopelessly forward to a long life full of thoughts about Harry back in his flat afterward, wincing a bit and unable to forget that Nick was inside him for even a second. Harry hands Nick the supplies, turns around and gets his pants down, flinging them off his foot so he's naked. They hit the mirror and fall to the ground, and Nick stares at his reflection for a second, standing there with lube and a condom in his hand, Harry in front of him with his palms to the wall and arse pushed out. 

"Make it up to me," Harry says, like he's trying to sound charitable but is only able to reach impatient. Nick drags his eyes away from the vision in the mirror and finds that the sight of Harry’s naked back, naked arse and naked thighs isn’t much better in terms of setting a new bar for everything he knows about aesthetics in general. Nick’s fucked a lot of models, a lot of teenage models in point of fact, but then there’s Harry, this long golden creature looking over his shoulder at Nick, curls falling angelically over one eye, and, “Did you need an instruction manual?” Harry asks.

“Pushy,” Nick mutters, but he supposes Harry’s impatience is warranted considering that they’re in a sodding public changing room. Nick slicks his fingers, and Harry keeps his eyes on him the whole time, as if making sure that Nick is actually following orders and not letting his thoughts flutter off again into sonnets about the backs of Harry’s knees. Fair enough. Nick gets a finger between Harry’s cheeks, tickles it over Harry’s hole, and Harry lets out a little moan. Just that little touch and his shoulders drop, tension easing out of them. He pushes his arse out, and Nick angles the tip of his finger in, in, until he can’t resist slipping his finger fully inside. Harry leans his forehead against the dressing room wall, starts to thrust his arse back onto Nick’s finger. Nick considers a sonnet about the bump at the top of Harry’s spine, and pushes another finger into Harry’s arse before Harry can tell him to. 

“Three,” Harry says, because apparently at Nick’s advanced age he can no longer keep pace with the sexual needs of a bratty teen pop sensation. Possibly he shouldn’t have waved off that instruction manual suggestion. He leans in close and bites Harry’s earlobe, a tiny rebellion as he nonetheless angles another finger into Harry. He doesn’t remember Harry being this tight before, but then the champagne and vodka and whiskey and whatever the hell else had gone into the Long Island iced tea of his beleaguered stomach had definitely lent the evening a sort of haze, rendering it all in flashes. Harry had begged, then, that Nick remembers. Harry had been so far gone, so desperate. He thinks he almost remembers something else Harry had said, a hot whisper in his ear as Harry climbed onto his lap in the backseat, _I’ve fancied you since I was fourteen_ , but he must be misremembering, mustn’t he? Harry wouldn’t have just said that. 

Nick works his fingers in and out of Harry, trying to keep himself together even as he spreads Harry open. Harry’s starting to thrust back onto his fingers again, fucking himself on them, and the sight of it, Harry’s arse taking him in, it makes his cock ache to be inside Harry again. “Ready?” he asks, pushing his fingers in up to his knuckles, and Harry nods a little frantically, looking over his shoulder at Nick, his face gone red, lips raw pink from being bitten and eyes glassy green. 

Nick means to swear but it comes out as Harry’s name, and he touches his other hand to Harry’s jaw, unable to stop himself kissing Harry even though it’s a harsh angle. Harry’s so far gone the kiss is clumsy, Harry’s mouth falling open like all his body can do is let Nick in, and Nick gives Harry his tongue, takes his fingers away and swallows Harry’s little cry of loss. His own hands tremble when he fits the condom on, rubs a bit more slick over it, and it isn’t just the fear they’ll get caught anymore. 

Harry’s hand comes back to clutch his hip when Nick guides his cock in, so Nick lets Harry direct it. He shifts back and pulls Nick in faster than Nick would have done it, and it makes Nick gasp a bit, being suddenly deep in Harry again, his cock buried in Harry’s arse as Harry takes in a shuddering, blissful breath. “Do you remember how I like it?” Harry asks. 

The overall picture of that night may be blurry but details have stuck in Nick’s mind. “Hard,” Nick says, and Harry nods. He curls his hand around his cock, closes his eyes like now he can trust Nick to do it right. Nick wants to please him, more than he generally wants to please anybody. He gets his hands on Harry’s hips, bends a bit since Harry’s shorter than him, and starts to thrust. 

The changing rooms are isolated, full walls and doors that shut properly, but Nick can still hear a clatter of hangers in the room next to them, someone bursting into laughter outside as the loudspeakers switch to the next song. He lets these things ground him, lets them remind him that Harry just wants a fuck, like last time he just wanted a fuck. He can do this for Harry, and it’s no hardship, holding Harry close with an arm around his bare torso as he thrusts hard into Harry’s arse, kissing the hot skin of Harry’s jaw as Harry quietly groans his name. It’s not quite slick enough, but Harry seems to love the roughness there, the drag of friction as Nick gives it to him. 

He hopes the walls muffle the sound of his hips colliding with Harry’s arse, at least. Harry’s biting his lip so hard it looks painful, his hand working fast on his cock. Nick wouldn’t mind getting him on a bed and doing this, just to try it, see if Harry can get off like a normal person instead of intoxicated in a car after an awards dinner or in midday in a shop changing room; surely he must actually have sex under the covers at night, sometimes, just to switch things up. Nick might not even mind just - kissing Harry a bit, maybe for awhile, without rushing or intent. Nick’s rushing now, he can’t help it, even though Harry’s a puzzle wrapped in an enigma contained in a really stupidly attractive body, he still feels amazing clenching around Nick’s cock and Nick wants to come, very much, wants Harry to come too. 

He fumbles a hand down to cover Harry’s hand with his own and ends up grasping his wrist instead, and maybe it’s coincidental but that’s when Harry comes, shoving himself back on Nick’s cock and curving his head so Nick’s mouth drags against his jaw. Nick lands a kiss at the corner of his mouth, grazes another against his cheek as Harry shudders out the last of it over his fist. 

Harry goes slack against him, warm and pliant as he looks up at Nick through his eyelashes, and Nick’s pretty sure that he’s never come before just because someone happened to be really pretty, but then again he’s never fucked a teenager in a changing room either so it looks like it’s a whole shiny day of firsts. 

He fights the urge to close his eyes as he comes. There’s nothing he could picture that’s nicer than what’s right in front of him, and anyway it’s not like Harry’s looking away. Nick blinks, just for a second, and remembers Harry on his back, sprawled over the backseat of the limo, staring up at Nick just like this. Like he couldn’t imagine anything nicer either. 

Nick shakes his head a little, trying to clear it, and the moment passes. Harry pushes him back a bit, and Nick carefully pulls out of him, thanking whatever ridiculous dressing room gods that decided this one needed a trash can. Harry cleans himself off with a few tissues from what is apparently the public sex kit hiding in his trouser pockets, and throws them into the trash as well, disguising the evidence of their misdeeds. “I’m hungry,” Harry says. “Could go for a sandwich, I know a good place.”

“Sure,” Nick says faintly. Harry gives him a little smile, starts to get back dressed. Nick doesn’t understand teenagers, or guys, or people at all. He does up his own trousers, straightens himself out. He looks surprisingly alright when he checks in the mirror. Harry looks a bit debauched, but it just makes him look like a sex angel instead of the ordinary kind of holy seraphic being. 

“Think I am going to buy this shirt though,” Harry says, giving a critical look to one hung separately on a hook. 

“It did look good on you before you took it off and demanded to be ravished,” Nick tells him.

Harry’s face dimples into a grin. “Thanks!”

-

At lunch, unprompted, Harry says, “We can get a hotel room next time if you want. I just thought that would be tawdry."

"As opposed to shagging in a changing room," Nick says, shaking his head at Harry. He has another bite of his sandwich.  

Harry shrugs. "Better than a toilet." He takes a contemplative sip of water. "Though this restaurant does have a pretty nice one," he says. His eyes narrow, and Nick's heart trips in his chest. "Hurry up and finish your lunch," Harry says.

And what’s Nick going to say him, no?


End file.
